


Avoiding Umbridge

by centaury_squill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaury_squill/pseuds/centaury_squill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Harry sleepwalking at Grimmauld place, OotP. Snape resists his persistent sleepy visitor, but not for long. Passion develops, and they must evade detection by Sirius et al. (Buckbeak knows how to keep a secret, but what about the house elves?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avoiding Umbridge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first Snarry-a-thon (2009). Derails canon shortly after the Snape's Worst Memory chapter in OotP.

Professor McGonagall glanced up from her desk for the third time in ten minutes and irritably pursed her lips. It was coming to something when she couldn't concentrate on her work for fear of an annoying _hem-hem_ from the doorway. Instead, she heard a quiet tapping, and Hermione Granger's whisper.

"Professor?"

Ah, they'd come, then: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and the Weasley children. She'd better carry out Albus's instructions at once, before they could be interrupted. Professor McGonagall opened her office door with an abrupt gesture from her wand and they all filed in. Good, they'd had the sense to bring their luggage with them.

"Quickly, now!" she commanded, shutting the door behind them with another quick flick of her wand. "Professor Dumbledore feels, in the current circumstances -" _with a power-crazy old hag in charge of Hogwarts_ "- that it would be advisable for you to spend the Easter holidays at Grimmauld Place."

"Dumbledore?" Harry Potter said eagerly. "Have you spoken to him? Is he all right? Has -"

" _Professor_ Dumbledore is fine, Potter," she said repressively. "I haven't spoken to him directly, no, but members of the Order of the Phoenix have ways of sending messages to one another. _Safe_ ways," she added, forestalling the next question, "and yes, Sirius Black has been informed of your imminent arrival."

"I bet he's pleased," Harry said, grinning himself.

"We're dead chuffed, too," said one of the Weasley twins.

"No Umbridge for two whole weeks," exulted the other.

Their sister didn't say anything, but she, too, looked pleased. Only Hermione Granger seemed rather put out, no doubt regretting the loss of Hogwarts library for her OWL revision.

Professor McGonagall gave a wry smile, then directed them all to touch the old biscuit tin in the middle of her desk.

" _Portus!_ "

As the children disappeared in a whirl of coloured lights, she reflected that, yes, Sirius Black would be delighted to see them. However, she was equally sure that the second part of Dumbledore's message would _not_ have made him happy. At all.

*

Severus Snape regarded the silvery phoenix with a forbidding scowl. Undeterred, it repeated its message in Albus Dumbledore's irritatingly cheery voice.

"Severus, my dear boy, I trust you are well -" Snape snorted: _get on with it, you old fool_ "- as am I. In the interests of all our continued well being, I feel it would be best for you to spend the Easter holidays at number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Snape couldn't believe his ears. Spend the holidays in _Black's_ house? With that flea-bitten cur who'd once tried to _murder_ him? Was Dumbledore even madder than usual?

It got worse.

"I have sent Harry Potter and his friends there, also," the phoenix continued chirpily. "I expect you to keep an eye on them all, Severus - keep them out of mischief."

Snape could feel the beginnings of a headache. He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with his fingertips. When he opened his eyes again, Dumbledore's Patronus was still there... _hovering_.

"Very well," he snapped. "I'll make my own travelling arrangements."

Then - _at last_! - the infernal bird faded slowly away, leaving just the unnerving impression of a pair of twinkling eyes. They hung in mid-air for a moment, then they, too, vanished. Snape swore violently and kicked a box of dried newts' eyes across his office. It burst open and hundreds of tiny discs pattered down onto the floor. Snape swore again and reached for his wand to restore order.

He was bending over the repaired box, making sure all the newts' eyes were safely returned, when he heard his office door open. A fussy little _hem-hem_ came from behind him.

"Headmistress," Snape said tonelessly, straightening up and turning towards her. _Still wearing that frightful pink dress with the frilly collar, I see._

"Ah, Professor Snape," Umbridge said, "I would like you to make a batch of Veritaserum for me, please."

"Certainly, Headmistress, I shall be delighted to oblige," Snape said. He eyed the wide smile on her revoltingly toad-like face before adding smoothly, "- after the Easter holidays." He savoured the rapid disappearance of her smile, being careful to keep his own face perfectly expressionless.

Umbridge gave an affected girlish laugh. "But, Professor," she said coyly, "You know you always stay at Hogwarts for the holidays."

"Usually, that is the case," Snape said. "However, _most_ unfortunately, this year I have been called away on urgent business. Urgent, _private_ business."

Snape relished Umbridge's expression of baffled fury for a long moment.

"Now, _if_ you'll excuse me," he said, bowing her out with exaggerated courtesy, "I have some packing to do."

*

Harry lost his balance as Professor McGonagall's Portkey landed them in Grimmauld Place's gloomy basement kitchen; he staggered a few steps before crashing into the kitchen table. The old biscuit tin clattered to the ground, Fred swore as George banged into him with his backpack, and Ginny yelped as she landed on the floor. Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands. They quickly let go when they saw him looking at them and Hermione blushed. Sirius came running into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. A big grin spread over his face.

"Brilliant!" he shouted. "I didn't expect you to get here so soon."

Sirius helped Ginny up from the floor, then thumped Harry on the back. He couldn't stop grinning. "Harry. It's great to see you."

Harry smiled back. "It's good to see you, too, Sirius." He blinked. "Er, there's something I've been wanting to ask you about..."

But Sirius had turned away, saying something about tea, and was bellowing for Kreacher. Harry decided that it was probably best to wait until he could get Sirius alone before asking him about that memory of Snape's. He'd lied to Ron and Hermione about why Snape had stopped giving him Occlumency lessons: he couldn't bring himself to describe what he'd seen in the Pensieve.

He'd always idolised his parents, and it had hurt to see the young James Potter behaving like the conceited prat Snape had always called him. Showing off to his friends - playing with that Snitch - artfully rumpling his hair - and then attacking the teenage Snape, just because Sirius had said he was bored.

And then there was his mum. She'd told James she'd rather go out with the Giant Squid than with him. So how'd they ended up married? Had James tricked her into it somehow? Imperiused her - blackmailed her - given her a love potion?

Harry couldn't work it out. He only knew how it was making him feel: confused and unhappy.

*

Snape slammed his bag down on the counter at the Leaky Cauldron and shouted for the landlord. He hadn't wanted to leave Hogwarts in the first place, and the tedious, time-consuming process of leaving his domain well-guarded had done nothing to improve his temper. Still, it wouldn't have done to allow anyone access to his possessions in his absence. He allowed himself a sour smile at the thought of the surprises in store for Professor Umbridge if she dared attempt to ransack his potion stores.

Potion stores which he'd realised could do with some replenishment; he'd call in at Diagon Alley in the morning, before going on to Grimmauld Place. There was no way he was going there tonight, no matter what Albus Dumbledore wanted. It was late and he was tired, in no mood for a confrontation with that mangy mongrel and all the impertinent whelps currently sharing his kennel. Bugger Dumbledore, he'd take his own sweet time about getting to Grimmauld Place tomorrow.

Snape rapped on the counter and called again, this time with better result; Tom the landlord came hurrying out from the dark recesses of the pub, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked.

"I want a room for the night," Snape said shortly, hefting his bag back up off the bar counter.

"Certainly, sir," Tom said, turning to peer at the board behind him. "I think number seven is free, yes, here we are -" unhooking a key from the board and handing it to Snape. "Would you like something to eat, sir?"

"I suppose I'd better," Snape said ungraciously. It was his last chance of a decent meal for a while; Black and his pitiful excuse for a house-elf were more likely to poison him. Another reason to regret leaving Hogwarts, with its regular supply of well-cooked meals delivered three times a day to the high table. Another reason to blame bloody Dumbledore for ordering him to Grimmauld Place...

*

"What are you folks doing today?" asked Sirius, handing round plates full of bacon and eggs. It was the following morning; everyone seemed cheerful and well rested - apart from Harry, who'd spent a broken night tossing and turning, drifting in and out of sleep, haunted by dreams he couldn't remember.

"Thought we'd pop over to The Burrow," Fred said airily. "Collect some of our stuff." He exchanged meaningful looks with his twin. Harry guessed that the stuff in question involved _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_ , illicit ingredients, and probably explosions.

"How're you getting in?" Ginny asked. Their parents were in Romania for Easter, visiting Charlie, and The Burrow was sure to be locked and warded against intruders.

Fred's mouth was full of bacon and egg; he just tapped his finger against the side of his nose and winked.

"Ask no questions and we'll tell you no lies, little sis," said George.

"Take me with you!" Ginny pleaded. "I want to collect some clothes and things."

Fred rolled his eyes, then relented. "Oh, OK," he said.

"You can feed the chickens while we're there -" said George.

"- and collect any eggs," added Fred. "Come on, you know you're the best at finding where they hide them."

"And how about you three?" Sirius asked, turning to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I want to go to Diagon Alley," Hermione said. "There are a couple of books I'd like to get."

"I'll come with you," Ron said quickly. "You coming, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. It would be nice to get away from Grimmauld Place for a bit; its gloomy atmosphere was already beginning to get on his nerves. But if everyone else was going out, it would be a good opportunity to ask Sirius about his dad and that disturbing glimpse he'd had of him in the Pensieve. Before he could make up his mind, Sirius broke in.

"You may as well go out and have fun, Harry. I can't see there being much opportunity once Snape gets here."

"Snape!" half a dozen voices exclaimed in horror.

"Yeah, Snape," Sirius confirmed grimly. "Dumbledore wants him to _keep an eye_ on us all. Bloody cheek. So enjoy yourselves while you can. I'd come with you, only I'm not leaving the place unguarded for him to snoop through when he gets here." He scowled, biting savagely into a piece of toast. "I'm surprised the bastard's not here already," he added, spraying toast crumbs across the table.

*

Snape sat at a small table in the bar room of the Leaky Cauldron, finishing his breakfast. Say what you liked about this place, at least they knew how to make good coffee. He savoured the aroma and took an appreciative sip.

He hated to think of the appalling breakfasts which awaited him for the next three weeks. No doubt Black and the brats were even now demolishing some dreadfully hearty and badly-cooked carnivorous repast, swilled down with mugs of stewed tea or, even worse, _instant_ coffee. He shuddered, picked up the coffee pot, and refilled his cup.

Looking up after replacing the coffee pot, his eye was caught by a headline in the top copy of a pile of _Daily Prophet_ s, neatly stacked on top of the bar counter. Snape reached out a long arm and took a copy. His thin lips compressed as he skimmed through the article. So another bunch of Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban, had they? Had Dumbledore known about this when he'd told Snape to keep a watchful eye on Harry Potter and his friends? It was certainly a compelling reason for _someone_ to nursemaid the brats. But why did it have to be _him_? Grimacing, Snape tossed the paper aside.

He wasn't looking forward to the next two weeks at all.

*

Harry leaned forward in his seat opposite Ron and Hermione in the swaying tube train and said quietly, so the nearby Muggles wouldn't hear him, "How do we get to Diagon Alley?"

Hermione pulled out a copy of _London A to Z_ from her backpack and started leafing through it. "We need Charing Cross Road," she murmured, glancing up at the diagram on the carriage wall over Harry's head.

Ron's head was very close to Hermione's as he looked at the _A to Z_ open in her lap. "Regent's Park!" he exclaimed, stabbing a finger down on the page. "Couldn't we stop off there on the way?"

Hermione went pink, and moved his finger off her lap. "Why Regent's Park?" she asked.

The tips of Ron's ears flamed red, and he muttered something about "Lovely Spring day - be nice to have a walk."

Harry felt uncomfortable. Maybe he should go straight to Charing Cross Road, and leave his friends to take their walk in the park without him? Ron seemed to be behaving around Hermione the way he, Harry, used to be with Cho. Huh. _Used_ to be. But now, what with Cho sticking up for that stupid sneak who'd grassed up Dumbledore's Army, to say nothing of all her crying, and whingeing on about Cedric... Harry shook his head irritably, and told himself to stop it. Ron and Hermione were his friends. They'd asked him to come with them, hadn't they?

Hermione was now consulting the Underground map at the back of her _A to Z_. "Ooh, Mornington Crescent!" she exclaimed.

"How do we get to Regent's Park from there, then?" asked Ron.

"I'm sorry, I haven't a clue," Hermione said, and inexplicably giggled.

Ron looked at her, baffled, then across at Harry. "What?" he mouthed.

Harry shrugged, and mouthed back, "No idea, mate."

Hermione coughed, and became serious. "Actually, I think if we get out at the next stop, we should be able to walk through the park and then get the Bakerloo Line to Charing Cross." She stowed her _A to Z_ away in her backpack and prepared to get up as the train slowed before stopping at the next station.

"Come on, you two!"

Harry and Ron followed her, and they all soon emerged from the Underground into the sunlight. Ron was right, it was a lovely Spring day. Harry felt his heart rise as they strolled into the park. He could hear birds singing, there was the smell of newly-mown grass, and the young leaves on the trees were a haze of fresh green. He was glad he'd come, even if he'd missed the opportunity for a quiet word with Sirius. Anyway, it would have been risky, with Snape expected at any minute. Suppose Snape had walked in while he was asking Sirius about that Pensieve memory? That would've been awful - Snape would probably think they'd been sniggering about it behind his back. Yes, he'd done the right thing...

Realising he'd fallen behind, Harry hurried to catch up the others. It had turned chilly; the sun had gone behind a cloud and a cold wind had sprung up. A sudden shower started as they reached the edge of the park; big spots of rain hit the ground all around them, and Ron and Hermione ran laughing down the steps to the Underground. Harry followed more slowly, his cheerfulness gone. He wasn't looking forward to re-encountering Snape at all.

*

In the back room of his favourite apothecary, Severus Snape temporarily forgot his troubles as he sorted through the finest potions ingredients to be found in Diagon Alley. A good selection of magic herbs, enchanted to stay fresh - so much more satisfactory than the dried varieties. Pickled dragon's liver. Bats' wings. And surely, wasn't that...?

"Best quality Lobalug venom sacs," the assistant said proudly, holding the jar out to Snape. "Just in."

"Fascinating," murmured Snape, his long fingers brushing against the assistant's as he took the jar. "Do you extract the venom yourself?"

The assistant widened his eyes. "Ooh no," he cooed. "It's the buyer's responsibility to do that. But I'd be delighted to assist. I'm _very_ proficient in squeezing sacs."

The suggestive look he shot at Snape made it clear there was more on offer than assistance in venom extraction.

Snape smirked. "Maybe you should allow me to assess your... _proficiency_ ," he murmured silkily, putting down the jar. His hands on the assistant's shoulders, he pressed firmly down until the man knelt, rather clumsily, in front of him. He gaped up at Snape. "What, _now_?"

"No time like the present," said Snape. He opened the front of his robe and grabbed the assistant by his long blond hair, pulling him forward. "Well, get on with it, I don't have all day."

The assistant licked his lips, and was slowly raising his hand to Snape's groin when the shop-bell clanged and they heard a group of chattering witches come into the shop.

"Ignore them," Snape hissed, but the assistant was already scrambling to his feet. Without looking at Snape, he hurried through into the main part of the shop, where Snape heard him effusively greet his customers.

With quick, jerky movements Snape set aside the potions supplies he needed to restock his stores at Hogwarts. They did not include the jar of Lobalung venom sacs. He swore explosively under his breath as he swept out through the shop, almost knocking over a short, dumpy witch examining a barrel full of black-beetle eyes. His hand on the door knob, he turned and scowled at the assistant behind the counter. "I have put my order on one side in the back. Kindly dispatch it to Hogwarts at the beginning of next term." His voice dropped to a menacing growl. "And if the level of... service... here doesn't improve, it'll be the last Hogwarts order you'll get." Then he was out into Diagon Alley, the door rattling behind him with the force of his slam.

*

Harry and Ron almost had to drag Hermione out of Flourish and Blotts. Luckily she only had a small amount of her allowance left, otherwise she'd have bought the whole shop. They stood on the pavement debating what to do next. Now that she'd got her books, Hermione wanted them to go back to Grimmauld Place as soon as possible. Ron didn't agree.

"I want to look in at Quality Quidditch Supplies," he said. "Fred reckons they've got some brilliant practice Quaffles. What about you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged; he was happy just staring around, soaking up the atmosphere of one of his favourite places in the world.

The sun had come out again and the street was full of people going about their business. Some held enormous ice-creams; evidently Florean Fortescue was open for business. Maybe they could call in there next? Perhaps he should get some of his money out of his Gringotts vault. Harry looked over at the tall white bank building, then back down the cobbled street. Spring was definitely in the air; several couples were strolling hand-in-hand... a group of young witches dressed in bright cotton dresses walked past, giggling...

...and...

"Oh shit!"

Harry felt an ominous lurch in his stomach, as though he'd just gone down very far, very fast in a lift. Striding rapidly towards them, face like thunder, black cloak billowing, was Professor Snape. The others turned to see what Harry was looking at. Hermione gave a little squeak of dismay. Ron looked cornered. For one wild moment Harry considered running, but it was too late: Snape was in front of them, glaring.

"I was under the, no doubt mistaken, impression that Professor Dumbledore had arranged for you three to spend the Easter holidays at number twelve Grimmauld Place," observed Snape, his voice low and menacing.

"We are - we went there from Hogwarts yesterday," Harry said defiantly. "But Sirius said it was OK for us to pop out to Diagon Alley this morning." _Before you got here and spoiled everything._

"I must confess I am _faintly_ surprised that your godfather shows no proper concern for your safety," Snape said icily, his lip curling. "And how did you get here from Grimmauld Place?"

"We came by Tube, Professor Snape," Hermione said, "But -"

"Wandering around Muggle London unsupervised? _Unprotected_? Are you mad?" Snape was practically spitting with rage. He turned on Harry. "And you. Have you no concern for your friends at all? Oh no, how silly of me, I was forgetting. You're a _Potter_." The contempt and rage in the last word were indescribable.

Harry's gut clenched. He felt all his old, self-righteous anger at Snape for slagging off his dad; but for the first time, mixed in with his anger, he also felt a chilling uncertainty. From what he'd seen in that bloody Pensieve, maybe Snape had been right about James Potter all along. He took a deep breath.

"Uh, sir," he said awkwardly. "About that, um, thing I saw -"

Snape's face grew, if possible, more furious still. "SILENCE!" he roared.

"But I wanted to -"

"What you _want_ , Potter, is neither here nor there. I'm taking you - _imbeciles_ \- straight back to Grimmauld Place, and I won't hear another word out of you. Not - one - word; do I make myself clear?"

*

The big black dog gave a last shake of his jaws and the rat dropped limply to the ground. The dog picked it up in his mouth and bounded across the badly-kept small gardens towards home. He'd got enough for Buckbeak's next meal now, anyway. Though word seemed to be getting out among the rats of Grimmauld Place; he'd have to go down into the sewers to find them soon.

The dilapidated back garden of number twelve appeared around Sirius as he transformed back to human form and spat out the rat with a grimace of disgust. When would he remember to drop them first? He picked the rat up by its tail and walked in through the back door, whistling cheerfully. No doubt Dumbledore would be furious if he found out that Sirius was still going out and about, even if only in dog form; but Sirius had no intention of letting him find out.

He grinned as he heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain from the end of the hallway: the kids must be back. Sirius hurried forward in time to see the front door swing open and Harry, Ron and Hermione stumble across the threshold, propelled by a vicious shove from behind.

"What the -?" exclaimed Sirius, then scowled as he took in the dark figure looming behind them. "Fuck. Snape."

"Black," Snape acknowledged. He deliberately looked down at the rat dangling from Sirius's hand, and his lip curled into a supercilious sneer. " _So_ sorry to have interrupted your morning snack."

Sirius clenched his free hand around the handle of his wand. For two pins he'd hex the sneering bastard. "Take on someone your own size, why don't you," he snarled, "instead of pushing innocent kids around. You're not at Hogwarts now, you're in my house, and you'll mind your manners."

Snape went a dull red. "These - _innocent kids_ \- were wandering around Muggle London," he hissed. "In case it has escaped your notice, Black, another group of Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban last night. With the Dark Lord growing stronger all the time, do you really think it appropriate to let them out alone? Or indeed at all?" He slammed the door closed behind him and waved his wand at the gas lamps lining the dark hall: they flickered grudgingly to life.

"Of course," he continued, his wand staying out and pointing towards Sirius, "I can understand your... reluctance... to leave the safety of your mother's house."

As if on cue, the curtains hiding Mrs Black's portrait sprang apart, and her screams and imprecations filled the hall.

*

Snape lay down on the bed and rubbed his aching forehead. It had been a very trying day. He glanced around at the faded Slytherin colours of the curtains and bed hangings, and grimaced. He was sure it hadn't been a kindly impulse on Sirius's part to allocate him Regulus Black's old bedroom.

Regulus Black. He'd been so young; so serious; such a hero-worshipper. Oh yes, Snape certainly remembered him. How proud Regulus had been when he'd first joined the Death Eaters! Of course, they were all young and stupid in those days. Regulus had realised the error of his ways sooner than most. And then he'd disappeared, presumed dead.

No doubt Sirius expected Snape to feel _guilty_.

He sighed, put out the light, and tried to empty his mind of the problems and pinpricks of the day. This proved to be unusually difficult, but eventually Snape fell asleep.

Some time later he was awakened by the sound of his door opening. Snape was alert in an instant, wand out, listening hard. Hearing quiet footsteps coming towards the bed, he cast a quick, wordless _Lumos!_ and was amazed to see Harry Potter. With no glasses, green eyes wide and unblinking, and baggy Muggle pyjamas sagging off his narrow hips. What the _fuck_?

Snape rolled out of bed and warily approached the boy, who was now standing completely still in the middle of the threadbare carpet. From his glazed eyes and unconscious air, the brat appeared to be completely unaware of his surroundings. Was he sleepwalking? Bewitched? And what the hell was Snape going to do? He traced the boy's outline with his wand: no sign of a spell. Sleepwalking, then. He vaguely remembered it was dangerous to waken a sleepwalker; in any case, if Potter woke up _here_ it would certainly be dangerous for _Snape_. Potter would probably scream his head off; Black would come running and accuse Snape of molesting his precious godson; Dumbledore would hold an inquiry... no, he couldn't allow that to happen.

So what should he do? With Black just across the landing, this was definitely a case of letting sleeping dogs lie. He'd have to try and steer Potter back to bed without waking him. Snape cautiously put his hand on the boy's shoulder and urged him towards the door. To his consternation, the boy wriggled closer to him and two skinny pyjama-clad arms came round his neck.

Oh Merlin, what now? He _had_ to get Potter back to his own room before he woke up. Gulping, Snape hoisted the boy into his arms and tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The sensation of a warm young body pressed against his own made him feel very strange indeed. He looked down at his burden. For once the sight of Harry Potter didn't reopen old wounds. The boy looked sleepy and vulnerable and nothing like James Bloody Potter. His cock peeped coyly out from the gaping fly of his pyjamas. To his horror, Snape found himself getting hard. As if the boy was aware of this, he began to thrust his skinny hips; the delectable pink cock sprang clear of his fly and grazed against the thin cotton of Snape's nightshirt. Snape hastily stuffed it back into the boy's pyjamas.

The boy was still rutting against him as Snape carefully manoeuvred them into the bedroom Potter shared with Weasley. Snape stowed him in his bed, thankful for the loud Weasley snores which covered the whimpers and moans that Harry was making as he approached climax. Snape couldn't resist bringing him off with two firm stokes through his pyjamas. The boy arched into his touch and came with a loud groan. Snape briefly considered cleaning him up, then callously decided to leave him to stick to his pyjamas.

As Snape crept back up the stairs to his own room his swollen cock brushed against his nightshirt with every step, which didn't help him at all in his efforts to put what had just happened out of his mind...

*

Harry awoke slowly. For once he hadn't dreamed about long corridors ending in locked doors. He wasn't sure what he _had_ dreamed about, only that it had been pleasant, and - taking in the state of his pyjamas - must've been really sexy. He grinned sheepishly; shame he couldn't remember it. He slipped out of bed, grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom.

By the time Harry had finished washing and dressing, his vaguely cheerful mood had been replaced with stomach-churning apprehension. He really didn't want to go downstairs and face Snape again. He'd been so keen to put things as right as he could about seeing that Pensieve memory, too. He was still fuming over how Snape had just refused to listen to him in Diagon Alley, and had then proceeded to totally ignore him once he'd herded them like truant kids back to Grimmauld Place. He supposed today would be more of the same.

But when he finally got down to the kitchen there was no sign of Snape. Everyone else was already sitting round the table eating breakfast. Sirius looked up when Harry came in and waved his hand at the kitchen stove. "Yours is keeping warm in the oven, Harry."

Harry opened the oven door and pulled out a plateful of bacon and eggs. "Thanks, Sirius," he said, taking it over to the table and sitting down next to Ron. "No Snape, then?" he added, trying to sound casual.

"Nah, he said he'd prefer breakfast in his room," said Sirius. "Antisocial git." He gave his bark of a laugh. "Not that I'm complaining. Last thing I'd want to see over the breakfast table is old Snivellus. Put me right off my food, that would."

Harry grinned, feeling much more relaxed, and started to eat his breakfast. If Snape was going to skulk in his room all the time they'd be able to have some fun after all. Maybe they could have a game of three-a-side Quidditch in the back garden after breakfast; the twins had brought some old broomsticks back with them from The Burrow.

This hope was dashed when Snape put in an appearance just as they were finishing the washing-up, and ordered Harry, Ron and Hermione into the drawing room, where he'd conjured individual desks for them.

"Just because you are not at Hogwarts does not mean that you are exempt from OWL revision," he told them coldly.

Hermione was the only one who seemed pleased by this statement. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry as they reluctantly took their seats.

"In order to give you some idea of what lies in store for you in June," Snape continued, "I wish you to try your hand at answering an old OWL paper." He produced a scroll from his robes and tapped it with his wand to produce duplicates, which he handed out. "A Defence Against the Dark Arts paper, as it happens," he said softly, his eyes briefly meeting Harry's, "from 1976."

Harry felt a jolt. 1976? Twenty years ago... that must have been when Snape himself had been at school - and Harry's parents - probably the selfsame OWL paper he'd seen them sitting in that Pensieve memory. He took the scroll from Snape, convinced his choice of exam had to be deliberate.

*

Harry yawned surreptitiously and tried to concentrate on the textbook in front of him. It had been a long day. The DADA paper had been followed by a Transfiguration one (also from 1976). After that they'd been allowed a short break for sandwiches and pumpkin juice, brought into the drawing room by a furiously-muttering Kreacher. And then Snape had insisted they spend the whole afternoon reading _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , with a strong hint that he'd be testing them on it tomorrow. It just wasn't fair. If they were back at Hogwarts they wouldn't be doing this much work. Well, maybe Hermione would...

Harry sighed, and dragged his attention back to _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

 _Heartsease, as its name suggests, is conducive to the relief of anxiety, and is much used in soothing potions..._

...his heart would certainly be eased if he could tell Snape how sorry he was he'd seen that memory, that he hadn't told anybody about it, and never would...

 _... much used in soothing potions, often to calm the mind before sleep..._

...he'd even admit his dad had been way out of line...

 _...to calm the mind..._

...but would Snape even listen to him? He hadn't before...

 _...before sleep..._

Perhaps he should try again? If he got Snape on his own, say. Maybe that was the mistake he'd made in Diagon Alley, trying to talk about it in front of Ron and Hermione. Yeah, he'd get Snape on his own, and just say it straight out...

As if Hermione had read his mind, she closed her textbook with a snap and got up from her desk, saying apologetically, "I said I'd help with the evening meal."

Snape sneered at her, but didn't say anything. Ron was quick to seize his opportunity; he jumped up, almost knocking his chair over, and hurried after her, mumbling, "Yeah, me too."

Harry was left alone with Snape.

Snape got up from the writing desk he'd commandeered for his own use and walked slowly over to Harry's desk. Harry looked up at him and blurted out, before he had chance to change his mind, "Sirmsorrymdadwasserprat."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry went red and tried to untangle his tongue. "Sir, I'm -" he said.

The door opened with a crash and Fred and George hurtled into the room.

"Harry!" they chorused.

"We need you to - oh, sorry, Professor Snape," George said.

Snape gave the twins a poisonous glare and swept out of the drawing room, leaving Harry feeling utterly frustrated: he'd never been less pleased to see George and Fred...

*

The door closed behind Snape with a bad-tempered bang. The twins raised their eyebrows at each other, then promptly forgot all about him and turned their eager attention on Harry.

"We want to run a new idea by you," Fred began.

"Being as you're our financial backer, and all," continued George.

"We think you should be the first to hear about it -"

"- and have the privilege of being one of the first -"

"- apart from ourselves, of course -"

"- to test it!"

The twins pulled chairs out from the table and sat either side of Harry, grinning at him cheerfully.

"What's this new idea, then?" Harry asked grumpily. "More stuff for the Skiving Snackboxes?"

"Not as such, no," Fred said. "You see, we've identified a slight problem with those. The trouble is, if too many people use them at once, the effect can be rather noticeable."

"Classes decimated," confirmed George. "Or in the worst case, for some lessons -"

"- like Snape's -" put in Fred.

"- nobody turning up at all. Which is why we've decided to branch out from Skiving Snackboxes with an entirely new product."

The twins beamed proudly and chorused, "Daydreams!"

"Just think about it, Harry," George said enthusiastically. "The purchaser remains physically present in the classroom, but is able to escape to a high quality daydream of their choice for the duration of their lesson!"

"Of course, so far it's only in the experimental stage," said Fred. "For one thing, we've not decided on the ideal delivery vehicle yet."

Harry looked blank. "Delivery vehicle?" he echoed. He had a momentary vision of a magic carpet, piled high with boxes labelled _Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes_ , hovering outside the Gryffindor common room window.

"He means the best sort of magic to use for them," explained George. "To start with we were thinking maybe some sort of potion, but now we're leaning more towards an incantation."

"Well, _you_ are," Fred said rather crossly. "Me, I still think the potion idea's got legs."

"Anyway, what d'you think of the general idea, Harry?" asked George.

"Sounds OK," Harry said cautiously. "I wouldn't mind escaping into a daydream in Umbridge's lessons."

"Excellent!" beamed Fred, thumping Harry on the back. "We can add you to our list of testers, then? We should have something ready for you to try out tomorrow -"

"- or maybe the day after," added George.

"Er, yes, I suppose," said Harry, wondering what he'd let himself in for.

*

That night Snape lay awake for far longer than he would have liked, trying to work out what that incoherent mumble of Potter's had meant. It had almost sounded as though the boy was trying to apologise for his father's shortcomings. Could that be possible? Or was he, Snape, a victim of wishful thinking? Speaking of which...

Snape drew his wand out from under his pillow and cast a series of sound-suppressing charms around his bedroom. As he closed his eyes and settled down to sleep, he carefully avoided asking himself why he hadn't just warded his door against his night-time visitor instead.

Some time in the depths of the night Snape became aware that he was no longer alone. He recognised Potter's scent even before he was fully awake. His cock had evidently realised the boy's presence sooner than his brain had: it was fully hard and straining against the thin cotton of his nightshirt. Snape pointed his wand at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling above the bed and conjured its many candles into life. Their flickering flames made the silver serpents composing the chandelier glow and appear to writhe as if alive. They also illuminated Harry Potter, standing beside Snape's bed. This time his pyjama bottoms were sagging so far off his hips they were in danger of falling off altogether. Snape couldn't stop himself reaching out a hand to help them on their way.

The boy looked utterly irresistible with his flushed face, glassy green stare and bare cock. Snape found himself breathing faster. He flung back the bedcovers; he told himself he was going to get up and shepherd the boy back to his room, but knew he was lying. The next minute Harry had clambered in beside him and was pulling up his nightshirt with clumsy, eager fingers.

 _Oh, this is such a bad idea,_ he thought, as he rolled on top of the boy. But his cock wasn't listening...

Later, Snape quieted his conscience by telling himself that the boy was, essentially, asleep; that he'd only rubbed their cocks together; that the boy wouldn't remember anything about it in the morning; and that what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, he certainly seemed to have enjoyed himself. Perhaps Snape's was only one of the bedrooms Potter visited for sleep-sex? He found the thought both arousing and unexpectedly painful. Snape looked down at the boy. Potter's eyes were closed and a faint smile curved his lips.

Snape stared, a whole host of feelings warring inside him. Most were extremely inappropriate. Then he quickly climbed out of bed, forgetting everything but the need to get the boy back to his own bedroom as soon as possible, before he could wake up.

*

Kreacher plonked a rack full of burnt toast onto the kitchen table. He was followed by Sirius, who kneed him roughly out of the way and handed round his inevitable breakfast of bacon and eggs.

"Pass the toast, Ginny," mumbled Ron, around a mouthful of bacon. "Oi, GINNY!"

Harry took in the faraway look on Ginny's face, and looked suspiciously at the twins.

Fred leaned towards him and said in an undertone, "Yeah, I tried a Daydream potion on her earlier, but I don't think I got the dose quite right."

Ginny was now drooling slightly. Hermione looked at her anxiously. "What's wrong?" she asked, putting her hand on Ginny's arm.

"Stop it, Michael," Ginny mumbled.

The twins exchanged glances. Fred fumbled in his pocket while George Accioed a large jug of orange juice from the sideboard and poured out a glassful. He handed it to Fred, who furtively dropped something into it before passing it on to Ginny. Hermione frowned at him, but before she could say anything the kitchen fireplace burst into life and Remus Lupin stumbled out in a swirl of green Floo flames. Anything Hermione had been going to say was lost in a general hubbub of greetings; Fred took advantage of the distraction to urge Ginny to drink the glass of orange juice.

Lupin sat down at the table and smiled round at everyone. He looked tired and even more worn than usual. "I thought Severus was supposed to be here?" he said, accepting a mug of tea from Sirius.

Sirius snorted. "He doesn't deign to join us for breakfast. He's probably drinking bats' blood or something up in his room. Why, did you want to see him?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes, I need to talk to him about my Wolfsbane Potion. I had a hell of a time at full moon the other night."

"You are looking a bit under the weather," Sirius said. "Would you like something to eat? I can do you bacon and eggs."

Lupin smiled at him. "No thanks. I'm not very hungry."

"At least have some toast and marmalade," Hermione said, looking at him in concern. "It's Mrs Weasley's own home-made marmalade; it's delicious."

"And the toast is Kreacher's own home-burnt toast; it's vile," sniggered Fred.

"God, yes, it's disgusting," growled Sirius, who'd just taken a bite of some. "Can't that bloody elf get anything right?" He looked round. "Kreacher! KREACHER!! Come and make some decent toast for Remus!"

The house-elf sidled back into the kitchen, muttering furiously under his breath. "Master fills the house with blood traitors and Mudbloods, and now Kreacher has to wait upon werewolves too, what would my poor mistress say, oh dear -"

"Fine!" snapped Sirius. "I'll make it myself. Go up to my brother's old room and tell Snape he's wanted."

Kreacher left the kitchen, wailing, "Oh the abomination, to give Master Regulus's room to a -" The door closed behind him, cutting off his description of Snape, rather to the regret of the grinning twins.

*

The twins were quick to seize their chance. "Come on Harry," Fred said quietly, "come up to our room while everyone's busy." And when Harry looked doubtful, George added "Or would you rather hang about till Snape gets down?"

Harry shook his head and followed the twins upstairs. He was sure that Snape's temper wouldn't be improved by hearing Kreacher's opinion on his occupation of Master Regulus's room.

When they reached the twins' bedroom Harry wasn't surprised to see a small cauldron simmering on the dressing table, giving off thick green smoke. "Is this what you gave Ginny?" he asked, walking over to inspect it.

"Yeah," said Fred, whipping out a small goblet and carefully pouring a ladleful of potion into it, "but don't worry, I'm giving you a much smaller dose." He held out his hand. "Hair, please."

"Hair?"

"To tune the potion to your personality. You don't want just any old daydream, do you?"

"Er, suppose not," Harry agreed, pulling out one of his hairs and handing it to Fred. Fred dunked it in the potion before handing the goblet to Harry.

"Down the hatch!" said George. He turned to Fred and said in an undertone, "But if this doesn't work, we'd better forget the customised potion idea and concentrate on a standard Daydream Charm."

"Yeah, OK, OK," Fred said impatiently.

"What do you mean, if it doesn't -" Harry was beginning, when the room began to swim around him, "-oh." He sat down heavily on the nearest bed.

He was in a different bedroom entirely. Everything seemed blurry and unreal. He was standing beside a bed; green and silver bed-hangings shimmered in front of his eyes. He knew, without knowing how he knew, who the occupant of the bed was, even though he couldn't see him clearly. Snape.

The room seemed to lurch. Harry was now lying on the bed, pressed down by the weight of Snape's body. He stared up over Snape's shoulder at a shifting, wavering glow hanging from the ceiling. He could smell the sharp, exciting musk of Snape's body, hear the deep tones of Snape's voice as he'd never heard them before, rough-edged with lust. His cock felt about to burst, squeezed against his belly by Snape's increasingly frenzied movements. Harry gasped and struggled to wriggle free. Snape moved back a little, breathing heavily.

"Don't stop," Harry said. His voice sounded strange and echoing.

His hand was grabbed and guided to Snape's cock, which felt warm and slippery and very, very big. Harry slid his hand along its length and felt Snape doing the same to him with a hand slick with oil. Harry groaned with pleasure. Then hands and cocks became a confused blur of movement; Harry closed his eyes and jerked his hips instinctively; Snape cursed and grabbed him by the balls, forcing him to slow down.

They moved together at a dreamlike pace set by Snape, but Harry couldn't hold on much longer. He was going to come. His groans got louder...

...and louder...

...and Harry opened his eyes to find he'd come in his pants and the twins were staring at him with awestruck expressions.

"Wow, Harry," George said, raising his eyebrows, "that must've been some daydream."

"Yeah, who were you dreaming about?" demanded Fred.

"Er -" _I can't tell them it was Snape! I can't!_ Harry caught sight of a broomstick propped up in a corner. "Madam Hooch!" he blurted.

"Madam Hooch?" repeated Fred. "You're onto a loser there, mate."

"Yeah, rumour has it she's shacked up with Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank," said George. "'Course, you might get lucky - they might fancy a nice threesome -"

"- but on the whole, we think not," Fred said, adding brightly, "still, that's the whole point of a daydream isn't it? It's not supposed to be _attainable_."

*

Harry escaped to the drawing room after fending off more questions from the twins (they did teach him a useful Personal Cleaning Charm, though). He was relieved to find that Snape hadn't yet arrived.

"He's still talking to Professor Lupin," said Hermione, correctly interpreting Harry's inquiring glance at the unoccupied writing desk. "He said he'd be here soon, and to carry on reading our Potions textbook."

Harry grunted and hauled _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ out of his bag.

"He's as bad as bloody Umbridge," complained Ron, leafing discontentedly through his copy, "making us read textbooks all the time."

"Oh, I suppose you'd prefer _practical_ Potions revision," Hermione said waspishly, "except I bet Sirius would rather his drawing room wasn't blown to bits."

"I doubt he'd mind," Harry said, "'specially if we managed to blow up his family tree." He waved his hand at the faded old tapestry; evidently Sirius still hadn't managed to overcome the Permanent Sticking Charm which held it tenaciously to the wall.

Ron gave a snort of laughter which he changed into a cough when Hermione glared at him. "What's the matter with you, anyway?" he asked. "Are you scared you didn't get a hundred percent on the OWL papers he made us do yesterday? That was mean, too, giving us those."

"I thought it was a brilliant idea," Hermione said. "Still - 1976 - I wonder how much has changed since then. In OWL terms, I mean." She rummaged nervously in her bag. "Do you think he's had time to mark them yet?"

"I don't give a flying -" Ron was beginning, when the door opened and Snape appeared.

Harry's stomach lurched, his heart began to race, and, oh Merlin, his cock gave a throb of interest as Snape swept past him. What was happening to him? He bent his head and buried himself in his Potions textbook, willing himself not to look up, not to meet Snape's eyes.

He found himself staring at a diagram of a magunzy root. It looked like a big cock...

...If his daydream was to be believed, Snape had a big cock...

Why had he daydreamed about _Snape_ for fuck's sake?

Harry's eyes drifted up from the page to see Snape staring at him with a peculiar intensity which sent shivers down his spine. Surely Snape couldn't have found out about his daydream - but he would soon, if Harry didn't look away: he was under no illusions about his ability to withstand Legilimency.

With an almost physical pull Harry wrenched his gaze away and once more stared down at his textbook. But he couldn't stop himself glancing up every so often; and whenever he did, Snape was watching him. It came as a relief when Snape got up after about half an hour of this and left the room without explanation.

"Why's he keep staring at me?" Harry muttered.

"I don't know, but he was doing it yesterday, too," Hermione said.

"Yesterday? I didn't notice," said Harry. He hadn't had the daydream then, so Snape couldn't know about it, after all. He turned back to his Potions book, wondering why that thought made him feel obscurely disappointed.

*

That night when Harry and Ron were up in their bedroom getting ready for bed, Ron said suddenly, "Hey Harry, I hope you're not going to do that weird sleepwalking thing again tonight."

Harry finished buttoning his pyjama jacket and picked up his comb from the dressing table. "Weird sleepwalking thing?"

"Yeah, seeing you in your pyjamas reminded me," Ron said, climbing into bed. "I woke up last night and you weren't here. I thought you'd gone to the loo or something, but then the door opened and you walked in looking all funny, and I couldn't get any sense out of you." Ron grinned. "Even less than usual, I mean."

Harry stopped tugging the comb through his unruly hair and stared at his friend. "But that's crazy! I don't sleepwalk. I've never -" he broke off. An old memory was struggling to surface, something he hadn't thought about in years.

The Dursleys hadn't fed him for a week: punishment for some involuntary use of magic, probably. All he'd had were glasses of water. He'd been starving. Then one morning he'd woken up to find his hunger gone and an empty pork-pie wrapper lying beside his bed. Aunt Petunia had gone spare, accusing him of stealing food from the fridge. Uncle Vernon had laid a trap. And the next night...

...the next night, he'd woken in a panic, in the middle of the kitchen, saucepans clattering to the floor all around him. Uncle Vernon had refused to believe that he'd been asleep; had locked him in the cupboard under the stairs with a triumphant bellow of, "Sleepwalk yourself out of that, boy!"

Harry gazed at the dressing table mirror, but he wasn't seeing his reflection. His brain was working furiously.

Suppose he had sleepwalked last night. Where would he have gone? What had been weighing so heavily on his mind - like the thought of food all those years ago - that he'd been impelled to try and reach it in his sleep? For a moment Harry wondered whether he could have been trying to find the corridor with the locked door he'd been dreaming about for months. But no, he'd not even thought about that since coming to Grimmauld Place, far less dreamed about it. So what...?

Harry gasped and closed his fist tightly around his comb as he realised what had been occupying his thoughts for the past few days. He'd wanted to apologise to Severus Snape. He'd wanted it so badly that he'd even wondered whether that was what had triggered his embarrassing daydream...

His daydream! Harry's fist clenched so hard that his comb snapped in two. Suppose he'd sleepwalked up to Snape's room last night. That would mean... would mean...

...maybe the daydream was based on something that had _actually happened._ Maybe the green and silver bed hangings of the daydream actually existed, up in Regulus Black's old room. Regulus had been a Slytherin, after all...

Harry dropped the broken pieces of comb and turned away from the dressing table. He had to know. He had to find out. NOW. He started towards his bag, meaning to take out his Invisibility Cloak, then stopped as he realised that Ron was sitting up in bed, staring at him. He couldn't use his Cloak without Ron wondering what the hell was going on. He'd just have to hope that Snape was still downstairs.

"Er, forgot to clean my teeth," Harry said, quickly heading for the door.

But he didn't go to the bathroom; his heart beating wildly, he tiptoed on up flight after flight of stairs, until he reached the top landing.

*

 __

Do Not Enter  
Without the Express Permission of  
Regulus Arcturus Black

Harry smiled at the pompous little hand-lettered sign. If he wasn't so on edge about Snape finding him, he'd have laughed aloud. His smile faded as he knelt to peer through the keyhole. It seemed dark inside; his wandlight didn't penetrate very far, certainly not far enough to tell if this was indeed the setting of his daydream. There was nothing else for it: he'd have to go inside. He cautiously turned the knob and eased the door open. As far as he could tell, the room was empty. He tiptoed in, wand held low. Yes, there was nobody else here. Harry let out the breath he'd been holding and looked around.

The bed hangings were indeed in the Slytherin colours of green and silver. So were the curtains. Harry moved closer to the bed. It certainly seemed familiar. He looked up at the ceiling. A silver chandelier composed of writhing snakes hung directly over the bed. Had that been the source of the wavering glow he'd glimpsed over Snape's shoulder in his daydream?

Harry pointed his wand at the chandelier, trying to remember the spell to light candles. Ah yes, that was it.

" _Incendio!_ "

He regarded the flames leaping from the candles up to the ceiling, and hastily added, " _\- diminuendo!_ " That was better. Now, _was_ it the glowing light from his daydream?

Hmm. It was difficult to be sure from this angle. Harry climbed onto the bed and lay flat on his back, staring intently up at the ceiling. No, not blurry enough. Though maybe that had just been the general dreamlike quality of the whole thing. Or - no, wait!

 

Harry took his glasses off, put them and his wand down on the bedside table, and lay back again. Yes! That was definitely what he'd seen. So he _had_ been here last night! But had he and Snape actually done - IT?

He was still lying there, sprawled across the bed and staring up at the ceiling, when the door opened and Snape walked in.

*

Snape stood just inside the doorway, drinking in the delectable sight in front of him. When had he stopped thinking of Harry Potter as the annoying, arrogant son of his enemy and started thinking of him as an object of desire? All afternoon, just looking at the boy had made him hard. He'd had to retreat to the bathroom and wank before he was sufficiently composed to give all three of them a well-deserved tongue lashing for the abysmal mess they'd made of those practice OWL papers. And now he was hard again. It made thinking difficult; he ignored the tiny voice trying to tell him to beware, that something here was out of kilter.

He had his hand on the boy's cock before he realised what that something was: this time, Harry Potter wasn't asleep. He quickly snatched his hand away, but it was too late. The boy sat up and gave him a squinting glare. Surprisingly, he didn't reach for either glasses or wand, which Snape now saw were lying on the bedside table.

"That answers that question then," the boy said.

For once, Snape was lost for words. What did he mean?

"I sleepwalked here last night," Harry went on. "And you, um, _did_ me."

"Nonsense!" Snape said indignantly, finding his voice. "You forced your way in here - and not for the first time, I might add - and insisted on, ah, _intimacy_."

"Oh yes, and of course you tried to stop me," Harry said scornfully.

Snape smirked. "You wouldn't have thanked me if I had, believe me. I've never seen anyone enjoy himself so much."

Harry went bright red. "It wasn't that good!" he snapped.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know? Oh, wait, maybe you were only _pretending_ to be asleep, to avoid any embarrassing consequences. No doubt a ploy which has served you well in the past!" He glared back at Harry, glad to see the boy was now looking distinctly uncomfortable. Good. He'd regained the advantage. " _Well_? Who else have you played this trick on?"

"No! Nobody -" Harry protested "- I mean, it wasn't a trick! I WAS asleep, OK? But the Daydream Potion made me remember what happened."

"Daydream Potion?" Snape was baffled. "There's no such thing as a -"

"The twins invented it!" Harry said hotly. "But I don't think they've got it working right yet, it made -" He broke off.

Snape and Harry stared at each other. The room had gone very quiet. Above them, the candles guttered and flung giant shadows across the bed. The fly of Harry's pyjama bottoms was gaping open again. Snape took a shaken breath. As if drawn by a magnet, his hand started to reach out.

Then they both looked instinctively towards the door as the familiar bullfrog croak of Kreacher's grumbling came from the landing outside.

Snape reacted like lightning; he dragged Harry off the bed and pushed him unceremoniously behind the floor-length curtains drawn across the bedroom window. The door started to open and Kreacher's words became intelligible.

"- house full of blood-traitor brats and renegades, now the werewolf is dying and good riddance -"

Snape quickly swept up glasses and wand from the bedside table, backed towards the window and shoved them into Harry's hands before pulling the curtains firmly closed and turning back to face the door. The house-elf came into the room, his big bloodshot eyes peering around suspiciously. "Kreacher thought he heard one of the brats, yes he did, but -"

"Why are you here, Kreacher?" Snape asked loudly, still standing in front of the curtains.

"Master told Kreacher to fetch Professor Snape and tell him the werewolf has collapsed," replied the house-elf, adding in his usual plainly-audible undertone, "Kreacher hopes the unnatural beast will die and all traitors with -"

"That's enough!" Snape said sharply. "Take me to him, elf."

Kreacher bowed low and slowly moved towards the door, still muttering. Snape followed. Kreacher cast a suspicious look at the curtains but Snape seized one of the house-elf's batlike ears and dragged him out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind them.

*

Harry lay awake for a long time after getting back to the bedroom he shared with Ron. Fortunately Ron was asleep and snoring hard when he tiptoed in, so he didn't have to answer any awkward questions about the length of time it had taken him to clean his teeth. But as Harry lay staring into the dark, he had questions of his own to face. Like why his feelings for Snape had suddenly got much more complex; and what were the chances they'd ever do IT while Harry was actually AWAKE; and - he felt a little guilty for not thinking of this sooner - what was wrong with Remus Lupin?

Eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep, during which he dreamed that Kreacher interrupted a bout of passionate lovemaking between himself and Snape to tell them that Lupin was dead, and the Wizengamot was going to hold an inquiry into their conduct. So it came as a relief when he entered the kitchen the next morning to see Remus Lupin sitting at the table, pale and shaken, but very much alive. Surprisingly, Snape was also there, though he didn't seem to be eating anything. An untouched mug of tea stood on the kitchen table in front of him.

Lupin looked up when Harry came in and smiled weakly at him. After a quick glance at Snape - whose face was completely expressionless - Harry forced himself to concentrate on Lupin.

"How are you feeling? Why did - uh, I mean, you're not looking so good today," Harry finished awkwardly, inwardly cursing himself. He'd nearly said _why did you collapse last night_. Fortunately nobody seemed to have noticed.

"I'm much better now," Lupin said, "all thanks to Severus here. If it hadn't been for his swift action I might well have died."

A murmur of shock ran round the table. Ginny said, "Oh, Professor Lupin! We didn't know you were that ill!"

"Do you know what caused it?" asked Hermione.

Lupin and Snape exchanged glances. "Severus thinks the Wolfsbane Potion I took at the last full moon may have been contaminated in some way," said Lupin, "though I don't see how; I got it from a reputable apothecary."

"I shall make Wolfsbane Potion for you myself before the next full moon," Snape told him.

Just then they heard the back door slamming and shortly afterwards Sirius came into the kitchen carrying a half-full sack. "Rats are getting harder to find," he growled, dropping the sack onto the kitchen floor. "I had to go into the sewers for this lot."

"Evidently," drawled Snape, with a disdainful sniff.

"Morning, _Snivellus_ ," Sirius replied nastily. "Didn't expect to see _you_ at breakfast. Run out of bats' blood, have you?"

"Now, Sirius," said Lupin. "Severus was up all night brewing remedies for me."

The thought of Snape being _up all night_ gave Harry such a vivid mental image that he choked and sprayed orange juice halfway across the table.

"Manners, Potter," Snape said coldly. "Although I suppose such subhuman behaviour is only to be expected with your... influences." He glanced from Harry to Sirius, and raised a supercilious eyebrow.

Harry felt as if he'd been punched hard in the stomach. OK, he hadn't expected Snape to be all lovey-dovey with him in public. He wasn't sure what he HAD expected, actually - but it certainly wasn't the look of icy contempt Snape was now giving him. Furious, Harry jumped up from his seat.

"I'm going to feed Buckbeak," he mumbled, grabbed the bag of dead rats up from the floor and stormed out of the room, giving Snape a _fuck you_ glare as he went.

*

The kitchen went very quiet for a moment after Harry slammed the door behind him. Then Snape said, without looking at anyone, "I suppose I had better make you some more Strengthening Solution, Lupin."

Lupin eyed Snape's pale face and said, "You look as though you could do with some yourself, Severus. Why don't you go and have a nap. I'm sure one of the others can make the potion."

"I'd be glad to," Hermione said promptly.

"We'll help," said Fred.

Snape looked sceptical. "As I recall, Mr Weasley, you and your brother both failed your Potion OWL."

"Yeah, well, we've had more experience since then," said George. "For reviving people testing our Sk-"

Fred kicked him and broke in, "- with one of our business ventures."

Snape snorted. "You sound like Mundungus Fletcher." He glared at the twins.

"I'm sure they know what they're doing, Severus," Lupin said, putting his hand on Snape's arm. "You go and get some rest."

"Oh, very well," said Snape. "If you're willing to take the risk of being poisoned." He got up and stalked out of the kitchen.

He'd intended to go up to the top landing and his bedroom - Lupin was right, he _did_ need to sleep - but for some reason his feet took him to Mrs Black's old room, where Sirius kept Buckbeak. Harry was there, bad-temperedly hurling dead rats at the Hippogriff. He turned round when the door opened, and for a moment looked as if he'd like to hurl a dead rat at Snape. Then he dropped the bag of rats and hurled himself across the room instead, slamming the door closed and pinning Snape against it. He pressed his lips against Snape's in a clumsy kiss.

Surprised at how inexperienced the boy seemed, Snape took charge, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue between Harry's lips. His hands slid down to cup the boy's arse.

"What do you want from me, Potter?" he groaned, moving down to kiss the boy's throat.

Harry threw his head back and whispered, "Everything," against Snape's greasy hair.

Behind them, Buckbeak's claws scrabbled on the straw-strewn carpet and his wings shifted uneasily.

"Good thing Hippogriffs can't talk," murmured Snape, pulling Harry's T-shirt off over his head and dropping it to the floor. He spread his long fingers across the boy's chest as if measuring it; ran them along his prominent ribs; dipped his head to inflict biting kisses on his nipples; brought his hands down to unzip Harry's jeans and free his straining cock.

As Harry cried out Snape realised, too late, that he hadn't cast any Sound Muffling Charms; there was the sound of feet thumping on the stairs and Sirius calling, "You all right in there, Harry?"

With a crack! Snape Apparated up to his bedroom just in time to avoid being caught. As he got into bed, he wondered whether Harry had had time to put his clothing to rights before his godfather burst in on him, and if not, how he'd explain why he was feeding Buckbeak bare-chested, with an erection poking out of his unzipped jeans. Musing on this delightful image, Snape fell asleep.

*

"Gone out? Where?" demanded Harry. He'd had a terrible morning: first his frustratingly curtailed encounter with Snape, then an embarrassing conversation with Sirius, followed by a dead stretch of Snapeless time helping his godfather weed the garden (for some reason Sirius seemed to think he needed healthy exercise).

Now it was afternoon, and he'd gone to the drawing room thinking that surely Snape would be awake by now and intent on making them revise yet more OWL subjects, only to find that he'd just left the house.

"Who cares where he's gone, mate," Ron said. "I vote we get in some Quidditch practice while we've got the chance."

"He's gone shopping for more potions ingredients in Diagon Alley," Hermione said. "And I don't think you ought to be thinking about Quidditch, not with all the revision we need to do." She frowned at Ron over _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

Harry fidgeted around the drawing room, unwilling to settle down at his desk. When he reached the window he looked out into Grimmauld Place. A breeze was ruffling the unkempt grass in the middle of the square. It seemed to glow a fresher green than usual in the spring sunshine. The grass was starred here and there with clusters of little white daisies, and a couple of pigeons were strutting across it. As Harry watched, one of them sidled amorously up to the other, fluttered up onto its back and pressed down, wings spread and tail cocked. Harry turned abruptly away from the window. Suddenly the thought of staying cooped up at number twelve had become intolerable.

Hermione looked up from her desk as he hurried out of the drawing room. Harry heard her call out, "Where are you going?" but he ran down the stairs to the front door without replying.

*

Snape walked briskly along Diagon Alley towards his favourite apothecary. It was almost unbelievable that less than a week had gone by since his last visit. The shop bell clanged as he opened the door. Recognising his customer straight away, the blond assistant smiled obsequiously and ushered him into the back room.

"I have your Hogwarts order safe, sir," he said. "Do you wish to take it now, or -?"

"No, keep it till the start of term as arranged," Snape said. "I'm here for some additional items, which I _would_ like to take now." He pulled a list from an inner pocket of his robes and handed it to the assistant, who glanced at it, then opened a large cupboard and began to take things down from the shelves.

"Some of these look like the ingredients of Wolfsbane Potion," he said, shooting an inquiring look at Snape. He shook powdered aconite root into the bowl of his scales and added small brass weights to the balance until he had the required amount. Snape nodded curtly. "You've missed out the hellebore, though," went on the assistant, tipping the powdered root into a small paper cone, "haven't you seen the latest Ministry guidelines?" He twisted the top of the cone to close it and popped it into a carrier bag with the rest of the ingredients.

Snape frowned. "No," he said slowly. "No, I'm afraid I haven't."

The assistant produced a small violet leaflet embossed with the Ministry of Magic logo. "Here you are, sir. You may as well keep it; we've got loads. Shall I add the hellebore to your order, then?"

The furrow between Snape's eyebrows deepened as he read the leaflet, but he said merely, "Yes, please do."

The assistant knelt down to reach a bundle of enchanted-fresh hellebore from the bottom shelf. "Will that be... _all_... sir?" he asked suggestively. "Only we wouldn't want you to be dissatisfied with the service we give you here." He nudged his cheek against the bulge in Snape's robes.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!!!"

Startled, the two men looked up, and saw a furious teenager glaring at them and threatening the assistant with his wand.

"Get away from him NOW, or I'll hex your balls off!" Angry red sparks fizzed around the tip of his wand as he spoke.

"Potter!" snapped Snape. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The assistant went pale and clambered to his feet. He backed slowly away, wide eyes fixed on Harry. Snape strode forward and grabbed Harry's arm. "Put your wand away, Potter. Or do you want to face yet another inquiry?" He turned to the ashen-faced assistant. "I must apologise," he said smoothly. "One of Hogwarts' more _disturbed_ pupils, I'm afraid. No doubt you've read about his delusions in the _Daily Prophet_." He tightened his grip on Harry's arm, warning him to keep quiet. "Why, he even thinks that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned!"

"Take him away!" the assistant said, his voice shaking. He thrust the bag full of ingredients at Snape, who snatched it from him and marched Harry out of the shop.

"How dare you interfere with my private -" Snape hissed out of the side of his mouth, but Harry interrupted passionately, "I can give you - uh, whatever he was going to -"

"And do you even know what that was?" Snape asked in a low voice.

"I don't care!" Harry said, not bothering to lower his. "Just give me the chance, I'll -"

"Silence!"

They stood in the middle of the street, glaring at each other. Snape had to admit that the boy's raw, passionate energy was appealing. Beside him, the apothecary's assistant seemed insipid and artificial. Snape came to a decision. "Very well," he said quickly and quietly. "Listen carefully, and don't interrupt. I am going to take a room in the Leaky Cauldron for a few hours. Come and join me there in half an hour, and for Merlin's sake don't let anybody see you."

"How will I know which room you're in?"

"I expect you'll find a way. A _discreet_ way, don't forget," Snape warned, relishing Harry's look of wide-eyed anticipation. He could read lust in it, and a little apprehension. Snape licked his thin lips. "Don't be late," he purred, and stalked away in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, his black cloak billowing around him as he went.

*

Heart hammering with excitement, Harry tiptoed along the upstairs corridor at the Leaky Cauldron. He was pretty sure he knew which room Snape was in; as he'd approached the pub after the stipulated half hour, something had made him look up and he'd recognised the dark motionless figure watching him from a window. Harry knew that window: he'd looked out from it himself often enough while staying at the Leaky Cauldron before the start of his third year, after blowing up his Aunt Marge. Bloody hell, that seemed a lifetime ago. He'd still thought Sirius Black was a murderer then, and he'd absolutely loathed Snape. Snape, who was even now in this room, waiting for him.

Harry stood outside room eleven for a long moment, breathing hard and trying to appear calm. Then he tapped lightly on the door. It opened at once and Harry found himself being pulled inside. Snape closed the door behind them and made a complex gesture with his wand. This done, he turned to Harry and looked at him intently. Harry had the sense that for once Snape's barriers had been lowered; his dark eyes were alive with passion as he urged Harry towards the bed. Discarding his clothes as he went, Harry was only too happy to obey; soon he lay naked on top of the bedcovers, Snape's head between his legs.

"For once," murmured Snape, thoroughly licking the side of Harry's cock, "I don't need to worry -" he licked the other side "- about you waking up -" he nuzzled his way along the underside of Harry's cock from head to root "- or being interrupted -" lightly mouthing his balls "- by an interfering house-elf -" flicking his tongue up to Harry's pucker "or -" thrusting his tongue in and out "your - bloody - godfather."

By now Harry was wriggling and gasping. Snape blew against his hot wet skin and smirked as Harry yelped. He traced the weeping head of Harry's cock with his forefinger until it glistened with pre-come. Then he took Harry's cock completely into his mouth, at the same time thrusting his slick forefinger into Harry's arse. Harry completely lost control, alternating between wildly pushing his cock further into Snape's mouth and rocking back hard against the intrusive finger in his arse. His whole body was slippery with sweat and he heard himself moaning, "Yes... oh yes... _yessssss_..."

Then Snape gave an extra hard suck and did - _something_ \- with his finger which swept Harry over the edge in a surge of sensation so intense he didn't even realise he was coming into Snape's mouth until it was all over and Snape was lazily sucking the last drops of come from his softening cock.

"Wow," Harry said weakly. "That was just - wow."

He lay for a moment, still dizzy from the intensity of his orgasm, then said rather shyly, "Do you want me to try that?" He wriggled round and flopped his head heavily onto Snape's lap.

Snape winced and pushed him off. "Kneel on the floor," he commanded hoarsely, swinging his legs round to sit on the edge of the bed, "between my knees."

Harry obeyed. For the first time he fully took in that, whereas he was completely naked, Snape still wore his robe. He reached up to try and undo it, but Snape gave a growl of impatience, pushed Harry's fingers away and hoisted his robe up to reveal the biggest cock Harry had ever seen. Admittedly he hadn't seen many, but still... the thought of taking all THAT into his mouth was distinctly daunting.

Snape was watching him closely. "Come on, my little Gryffindor," he whispered, "not _afraid_ , surely?"

Harry shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed Snape's cock and began slurping away as if he held a huge novelty lollipop with an unusual flavour.

Snape sighed. "Your enthusiasm is admirable," he said, "but I would appreciate a little more... _finesse_." He reached down and hauled Harry up onto the bed. "Let's try something else."

To Harry's secret relief he kept his cock well away from Harry's mouth, instead stroking it along Harry's leg. Harry felt himself starting to get hard again. He tried to run his hands over Snape's body and groaned when his robe got in the way. "You're going to have to take this off," he muttered, pulling at it in frustration.

Snape stopped him. "I don't think that would be wise," he said, with a glance at his left arm, where Harry knew he bore the Dark Mark.

"Why?" demanded Harry. He was getting more and more frantic to see Snape naked. "I've seen the Mark before."

"Seeing it is one thing -" Snape said darkly, "but _touching_ it - no."

"Why not?"

For a moment Harry thought Snape wasn't going to answer. Then he said, "Since we don't understand your connection with the Dark Lord, I'd rather not risk you touching my Mark. We don't want the room filled with Death Eaters thinking they've been Summoned, do we?"

Harry grinned. "Would rather beat Kreacher and Sirius, yeah," he said. "But I -" he traced his fingers over as much of Snape's bare skin as he could - "I want to touch you," he whispered.

Snape's breathing got ragged. "A compromise," he said hoarsely, ripping at his robes. A moment later he lay naked apart from one sleeve covering his left arm from the wrist to just above the elbow. It should have made him look ridiculous, but Harry found the sight unexpectedly moving. Snape saw the look in his eyes and made an indistinct sound. Harry ran his hand up Snape's right arm, reached round and stroked his back. Their chests were pressed together - Harry wriggled, seeking even more contact - their legs were entwined - he moved his toes, stroking them up and down the arch of Snape's foot. To his delight he heard Snape making little noises of pleasure. Snape's cock lay, full and heavy, against Harry's leg; he leaned over and fumbled in his discarded robes, then put a small vial into Harry's hand.

Harry unstoppered the vial and, obeying Snape's gestures, poured out a slick palmful of oil and smoothed it liberally over Snape's cock until it glistened. Did Snape want a hand job? But apparently not - Snape loomed over him and pushed his slippery cock between Harry's thighs. "Squeeze!" he gasped, and as Harry gripped him, he began to thrust.

Snape's face was contorted with such fierce joy it was almost unrecognisable. His passionate groans were music to Harry's ears: who would have thought that his normally cold and self-controlled Potions master could make such noises? Could rut like this in utter abandon between his thighs? Awed, he stroked his lover's sweat-damp straggles of hair, then held Snape tight as he came with a shout and spurt after spurt of spunk sliding down Harry's legs onto the bed.

*

Harry and Snape avoided each other's eyes, feeling strangely awkward after the intimacy they'd just shared. Harry pulled on his Muggle jeans and T-shirt while Snape picked up his robes and shook them out. A small violet leaflet fell out and fluttered to the floor.

"What's that?" Harry asked, glad of the distraction. He picked it up. "Ministry of Magic - Guidelines for Wolfsbane Potion," he read aloud, then looked questioningly at Snape. "I didn't know there _were_ any guidelines."

"There weren't until very recently," Snape said. He shrugged into his robes and rejoined the ripped sleeve with a muttered _Reparo!_ and a tap of his wand. "Take a look at the ingredients. See anything odd?"

Harry ran his eye down the list. "Um, hellebore?" he guessed.

"Yes, hellebore. Which just happens to be deadly poison to werewolves during the full moon phase." Snape took the leaflet from Harry and frowned at it. "Now I know what caused Lupin's illness. Someone in the Ministry is deliberately trying to poison werewolves."

"Wow, I wonder who that could be," Harry said sarcastically. "Let's see - who do we know from the Ministry who hates halfbloods?"

"Be that as it may," Snape said, "we must be going. You had better leave here first - and -"

"- don't let anyone see me," Harry said, with a resigned sigh.

"- and loiter outside the Quidditch shop," Snape smirked. "Nobody will be surprised to see you there, ogling the latest broomstick. I shall happen upon you in a few minutes and Apparate us to Grimmauld Place."

"But what about this?" Harry protested, pointing to the leaflet in Snape's hand. "Surely we're not going to let Umbridge get away with it!"

"There are people better placed than we are to deal with the matter," Snape said. "I think - yes, I think a message to Nymphadora Tonks will produce the desired result."

Harry looked at him expectantly. "Are you going to send the message now?" he asked.

Snape drew his wand, then hesitated. "Off you go. I'll send it before I join you."

Harry opened the door cautiously, checked that nobody was about, then hurried down the corridor towards the stairs. He was a bit annoyed he hadn't been able to see first hand how members of the Order of the Phoenix communicated with each other. What did Snape have to be so secretive about, anyway?

*

However Snape sent his message, it certainly worked: they hadn't been back at number twelve very long when the doorbell rang and Sirius let in a very anxious-looking Tonks. He led her down to the basement kitchen, where everybody had gathered to discuss the Ministry leaflet, and shut the kitchen door against the sound of screams coming from his mother's portrait.

"I've told you not to ring that bloody bell," he said crossly. "It always wakes her up."

"Sorry, I forgot," said Tonks. "I was so worried about Remus." She hurried across the kitchen to where Lupin sat by the fire. "Are you OK?"

Lupin smiled at her. "I'm fine, Tonks," he said. "Everyone's been looking after me wonderfully well, and now that Severus knows exactly what caused the problem -"

"Yes!" Tonks broke in furiously. "I can't believe even that bitch Umbridge would go this far. Something has to be done about her!"

"We don't know for certain that it was her," Hermione said fairly. Everyone stared at her in disbelief. "I mean," she went on, turning pink, "we may all think it was, but we haven't any _proof_."

"I'm hoping Kingsley can unearth some," Tonks said. "I told him all about these so-called guidelines, and he's looking into it now. He's senior to me, he stands a much better chance than I would - and anyway," putting her hand on Lupin's arm, "I wanted to see how you are."

The twins exchanged glances. Fred mimed being sick; George put his hand over his heart and rolled up his eyes in his interpretation of a lovesick maiden. Ginny giggled.

Harry, feeling very thankful that the twins had no way of knowing about himself and Snape, said, "Be great if Kingsley can get Umbridge sacked."

"Not much chance of that," Ron said gloomily. "Old Fudge thinks she's the bees knees."

However, Kingsley Shacklebolt must have had more influence than Ron gave him credit for. That afternoon Professor McGonagall arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, to inform them that Umbridge had been summoned to appear before a Ministry inquiry, chaired by Madam Bones.

"And since the inquiry will last at least a week," she said, "I see no reason why you children should not return to Hogwarts for the remainder of the Easter holidays. I'm sure Professor Snape has been doing his best -" she smiled at Snape; he looked back with a stony stare - "ahem, yes well," she went on, " I expect you'll be glad to have the resources of the Hogwarts library at your disposal again. In fact the Knight Bus will be picking you up this evening, so you'd all better go and get packed."

Hermione smiled happily at the thought of being able to use her beloved library again, but Harry gawked at Professor McGonagall in dismay. "You want us to go back this evening?" he repeated stupidly.

"Yes, Potter, I have made the arrangements. I know you'll be sorry to say goodbye to your godfather," she added kindly, "but your OWL revision will be much better done at Hogwarts."

But Harry wasn't thinking about Sirius, or about his OWL revision. He was thinking about Snape. He flashed him a quick glance, but Snape refused to meet his eyes.

"Do you wish to accompany us on the Knight Bus, Severus?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I think not, Minerva," said Snape. "I must make arrangements for Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion before I leave. In fact, if you will excuse me, I should prepare some of the ingredients now." He swept out.

Pretending he was going to go and pack, Harry started up the stairs after him. But he didn't go into the bedroom he shared with Ron. He followed Snape up to Regulus Black's old room. For a moment he thought the door was going to be slammed in his face, but then Snape reluctantly stood aside to let Harry in.

"What are we going to do?" Harry burst out.

Snape's face seemed to be carved from granite; his eyes were dead and empty. "Nothing," he said. "It's over."

Harry stared at him, utterly devastated. "What? No! It can't be!" He held his hands out appealingly. "Look, when you get back to Hogwarts, how about if I creep down to the dungeons at night?"

"Are you mad?" Snape said harshly. "With Filch prowling the corridors at all hours? And Umbridge too, if this inquiry doesn't succeed in dismissing her? She'd be delighted to catch you out of bed after curfew, and I can't fend off her requests for Veritaserum indefinitely." He drew a painful breath and pressed his fingers against his forehead before continuing, "Then there's Albus Dumbledore, lurking Merlin knows where, and an entire _army_ of prying house-elves. You're bound to get caught sooner or later. And once word gets out that I'm fucking a pupil, I'd not only lose my job, I'd be sent to Azkaban. Is that what you want?" He looked at Harry with sudden suspicion, but what he saw in Harry's eyes evidently reassured him, for his face relaxed infinitesimally and he continued, "However..."

"Yes?" Harry said eagerly. He stared back at Snape, willing him to see how deep his feelings truly were, how much he still wanted him. How much he would always want him.

"However, I _do_ think we should resume your Occlumency lessons," Snape went on slowly, his eyes still fixed on Harry's. "Don't you?"

 ****

Fin


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